


La Nuit

by TheGiantSquid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-20
Updated: 2006-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGiantSquid/pseuds/TheGiantSquid
Summary: War is not glamorous, nor exciting or thrilling. It's dirty and exhausting and it's a struggle every day to survive.After Pansy Parkinson is rescued from Death Eaters, she and Harry Potter discover that they have much more in common than originally believed.





	La Nuit

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: This was written for Reddwarfer on livejournal for the wizard_love community. Massive thanks must go out to Swan who helped me with a lot of this, especially the ending, and even let me borrow some phrases, and to my beta, abigail89, who helped me out in a clutch and got this beta’d on really short notice. Thank you both so much. *hugs*  


* * *

_La Nuit_

“We have the coordinates.”

Harry nodded and took the parchment from Ron’s hands without a word.

“Hermione wants to go for them tonight,” Ron continued. He paused, used to Harry being quiet when it came to launching attacks against Death Eaters. “She says we’ll have an element of surprise. She’s awaiting your orders to gather additional forces.”

Harry blew out a breath and ran a hand through his shaggy black hair.

“Do we know for sure how many prisoners are being held there?” he finally asked.

“At least twenty of our people,” Ron replied, “plus others from the Ministry, as well as just everyday citizens of the Wizarding world.”

“Do we know if they’re alive?” Harry said harshly, and Ron winced.

“We don’t know anything for sure, Harry, but—but it would be worth it...and you know that.”

Harry remained silent for several minutes before he nodded once at Ron, who exited the room immediately to inform Hermione and gather the Order’s fighters.

“It’s good strategy,” came a scratchy voice from the other side of the room. Remus Lupin emerged from the shadows, his amber eyes and grey hair glinting in the firelight.

“We can’t afford to lose any more people,” Harry murmured, stroking the two-day-old stubble on his chin. “ _I_ can’t afford to lose any more friends,” he added in a whisper.

“Our sources and information are solid,” Remus said firmly, coming up behind Harry and placing his hands lightly on the younger man’s shoulders.

“A source whose name—or names—we don’t even know,” Harry scoffed. He harshly shrugged off Remus’s hands and set about pacing around the Grimmauld Place parlor.

Remus frowned and opened his mouth to respond when there was a light knock on the door.

“Enter,” grunted Harry. Hermione and Ron walked in and briskly closed the door behind them.

“Everything’s in place, Harry,” said Hermione. “We’re ready to go on your orders.”

“Let’s do this, then,” said Harry, and the trio left the room with a purposeful stride, leaving Remus alone to ponder the fire silently.

*~*~*~*

The Order found themselves on a large cliff overlooking a violent ocean. Monstrous waves thrashed against the cliff wall nearly a hundred feet below them.

“Split into your respective groups,” Harry said in a raised voice as he struggled to speak above the waves. “Do not engage the enemy. If you find yourself in danger that you cannot handle on your own, get out of there. This is not the time for heroics. Rescue all you can, using your emergency Portkeys only for the most extreme cases, but not at the expense of your own life. You are dismissed.”

The mass of witches and wizards split into their teams, and began to make their way towards an ominous-looking castle that was sitting atop a hill in the distance.

“We’ll be making our way through the tunnel underneath the east wing of the castle,” Harry shouted over the ocean’s roar to his own team. “The tunnel will then split into two, and so will we. Tonks will be leader of the second group. Let’s go.”

They walked for fifteen minutes in silence, constantly on the lookout for any Death Eaters or booby-traps that could be spread throughout the castle grounds, but they encountered no difficulties when the group finally reached the tunnel. Its entrance was hidden partially by a large bush; Ron and his brother Bill slashed away at the foliage until Bill could reach the door. It took him another ten minutes to remove all the curses, spells, or hexes that were protecting the entranceway.

Tonks and Bill insisted on going on ahead before Harry and the rest to make sure the path was free of dangers, and Harry allowed them a five-minute head start.

“What do you think we’ll find once we’re inside?” asked Ron as the team slowly made its way down the slimy tunnel. Ron had to hunch somewhat because he was so tall and the ceiling so low.

Harry shrugged, but then realized that Ron probably couldn’t see the gesture in the dim light, and so he said, “I’m not sure. Remus seemed to think it would be...” He trailed off and paused. “He says his sources are dependable and that this would be our best opportunity to rescue these people.”

Ron grunted. “I don’t trust Lupin’s bloody sources. The last time the Order had a Death Eater spy, the man ended up betraying us all and murdering the most powerful wizard in the world.”

“I trust Remus,” said Harry stiffly.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t, mate,” Ron replied softly. “I sure as hell do—trust him, I mean. He’s head of the Order and damn well knows what he’s doing. I’m just...weary. Sources, especially anonymous ones, make me twitchy.”

Harry couldn’t help but grin a little. “I know,” he conceded after a moment’s thought. “But we’ve got to have hope in something, yeah? Or else this is all just a fucking waste...”

Ron snorted and Hermione, who had been walking in from of them the entire time, finally lost her patience. Turning around and walking backwards, she hissed, “Will you two be quiet? We’re almost there and we can’t afford to be so careless!”

With a huff, she whipped around, bushy hair flouncing behind her, and Harry and Ron struggled to stifle their laughter.

“You made it finally!” announced Tonks as the group reached the fork in the tunnel. “Remember,” she began once the team of wizards gathered around her and Harry, “if you find yourselves in trouble, don’t go playing the hero. Just get out of there, all right? Everyone, even the prisoners, are to be evacuated to headquarters. Use your emergency Portkeys for those who can’t walk or who are near death. Otherwise, once we’re beyond the Anti-Apparation spells on the castle, use Side-Along Apparation to get yourselves safely back to Grimmauld Place. There will be Healers standing by. Is there anything else you’d like to add, Harry?”

Harry thought for a moment before shaking his head. Tonks grinned weakly and then gestured for her group to follow. Harry watched them go until he could no longer see Tonks’s blue hair before he turned to his own team and led them down the tunnel.

The deeper they went, the closer they got to a low murmur of noise that was coming from above them. After another endless amount of walking, they stopped when Hermione held up her arm and whispered, “I think this is it.” Her eyes were wide and her skin ghostly white in the pale light of a single _Lumos_ spell. “According to our map, there should be...ah, there it is.” Hermione took a step to the right and revealed to the others a small, rusty door.

Bill marched forward, waving his wand. “No spells or protection,” he said after a few moments. “I reckon they didn’t figure anyone could ever make it this far. Either that, or they just don’t care.”

“Thanks, Bill,” said Harry, and Bill nodded, the dim light bouncing severely off his scars. Turning around, he waved his wand again and the door opened with a soft click.

The soft murmur of noise was now suddenly a litany of screams and moans, of people crying out for help, others weeping. A strong stench permeated Harry’s nostrils and he fought to keep from gagging.

“Holy shite,” Ron gasped.

“All right, everyone, you know what to do!” Harry shouted, and then leapt into the room. Hermione quickly dispatched several Patronus messages to the rest of the Order, which soon joined their team in the dungeons to help rescue the victims.

An hour or so later, about fifty people had been transported out of danger and back to Grimmauld Place. Luckily, there hadn’t been too many severe cases, though they had found some bodies. Harry didn’t think he could look Seamus in the eye after he found out about Dean’s injuries.

“HARRY!”

Harry’s head snapped up at the voice yelling for him from the end of the corridor. He pounded past the cells and finally came upon Ginny and Ron struggling to get a large metal door open with magic.

“Damn thing won’t respond to any counter-spells,” Ron grunted as he kicked at the door. “We need Hermione or Bill here to break the Charms and whatever else has been placed on it.”

Harry eyed the door and then pulled his wand from his robes. “Stand back,” he said, and Ron and Ginny backed up quickly. A loud explosion rocked the hall when Harry blasted the door clear off its hinges, dust and smoke flying everywhere.

“Harry, wait!” Ginny yelped. “Don’t go in there until...the room’s been cleared...” She trailed off and growled when Harry ignored her and ran willy-nilly into possible danger, Ron right on his heels. “Typical,” she muttered, scrambling over the mangled remains of the door and into the cell before slamming straight into Ron’s back.

Scowling, Ginny peered around Ron curiously to look into the room and gasped.

On the floor, not a stitch of clothing on his body, was a deathly white Draco Malfoy. He was curled into a fetal position and covered in bruises. There was a faint sheen of pink to his once blond hair, and Ginny felt ill at the thought of it being blood.

What was worse, however, was the fact that Pansy Parkinson—a girl who had been missing for over two years and was assumed to be aligned with the Death Eaters—was curled around Draco, as if she were protecting him somehow, or perhaps even trying to keep him warm. Pansy’s clothes were tattered and Ginny saw hints of massive scars criss-crossing the other girl’s abdomen. Bruises decorated Pansy’s face and upper arms, and her bare feet were dirty and blistered. Pansy’s black, shiny hair, once her pride and joy, which she used to flaunt proudly around school, was nearly sheered off. All that remained was a short, jagged bob.

“RON! Give me a Portkey!” Harry’s voice startled Ginny out of her trance and she watched as Ron struggled to remove the small kneazle figurine from his pocket. He hastily shoved the Portkey into Harry’s shaking hands, and after a murmured activation spell, he and the two prisoners were gone.

“Blimey,” muttered Ron, blowing out a puff of air. “Was that Malfoy? And Pansy Parkinson?”

Ginny stared at the spot where Harry had been kneeling not moments before but did not answer. “Come on,” she said softly. “We need to find Hermione and the others and get back to number twelve.”

Ron nodded and followed Ginny out of the cell, and back into the chaos.

*~*~*~*

With a loud thud, Harry landed on the main floor of Grimmauld Place, and his two traveling companions sprawled ungracefully at his feet. Without missing a beat, he roared, “I NEED A HEALER _NOW_!”

Steps thundered down the aging staircase of the Order of the Phoenix’s headquarters as dozens of Healers descended upon Harry and the limp bodies of Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

“Harry!” cried a familiar deep voice. “Vhat has happened here?”

Harry looked up into the warm brown eyes of Viktor Krum, opening his mouth to respond, when a wave of nausea washed over him. Stumbling slightly, Harry felt his knees collapse before he passed out at Viktor’s feet.

Harry woke up several hours later to a light tapping on his bedroom window. Blinking groggily, he fell out of bed and tripped his way over to let Hedwig into the room.

“What is it, girl?” he asked, as she settled on his shoulder and stuck out her leg. Attached was a small bit of parchment with Remus’s handwriting on it.

_Harry—_  
  
Once you are awake please come downstairs at once. There has been a development with the two...people you brought back from the prison.  
  
—Remus Lupin

Harry sighed and petted Hedwig absently as he recalled the events of the day. Screams. Cries. Stench. Moans. Pleas. Malfoy. White. Red. Pansy. Black. Scars. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out as much as he could, cutting off any emotion. He wouldn’t be weak. He _would not_ feel. That was how he survived; that’s how he’d been surviving for the past four years, ever since Dumbledore died. It was working so far, but even Harry wasn’t that stupid. He knew that he was going to snap any day. He only hoped that that day would be the one to finally bring down Voldemort and end this bloody war, once and for all.

Harry started slightly when Hedwig nipped on his fingers, reminding him that he needed to go to Lupin as soon as possible. He walked hastily down the stairs and tried as hard as he could to avoid eye contact, though every once in a while he would catch a glimpse of a body covered in a white sheet. Ignoring any reaction he might have to the sight of friends long dead, Harry marched steadfastly into the parlor. Ginny, Ron, Remus, and Viktor were all assembled in the room, apparently waiting for him.

“Well, what is it?” Harry said, a bit sharply. Remus raised an eyebrow and Harry felt himself flush slightly.

“Harry,” Remus began, “you are aware of the fact that transporting known Death Eaters via Portkey into the headquarters for a secret organization bent on the destruction of their master isn’t exactly protocol, correct?”

“They were being held prisoner,” Harry said at once, feeling his blush deepen as everyone stared at him. “They’d both been beaten and possibly tortured. What the hell else was I supposed to do anyway? Leave them there to die? Besides, you don’t know for sure that they’re Death Eaters.”

“But Harry,” said Remus softly in an ever calm voice, “Draco was very much a Death Eater, at least at one point in his life. When Viktor was trying to heal Draco he came across the Dark Mark on his left forearm.”

Harry blinked and looked at Viktor, who nodded apologetically. 

“Still,” Harry pressed, “he was clearly a prisoner of some sort and an enemy to Voldemort. I told you what happened that night on the Astronomy Tower, Remus,” he continued in a lower voice. “You know that I never thought Malfoy capable of murder. It’s possible that in these past few years Voldemort hasn’t been too pleased with him and sought to finish him off or something.”

Remus eyed Harry carefully. “It’s quite possible,” he said. “At any rate, Voldemort succeeded.”

“What?” Harry turned and gave Viktor a questioning look.

“I am sorry, Harry,” Viktor said, looking sad. “But Malfoy’s injuries ver extreme and he had lost a lot of blood before ve could save him. He is dead.”

Harry felt all his blood leave his face as his heart dropped into his stomach. “What about Pansy?” he blurted.

“Her injuries, they are not so bad. She is...uh, underfed and needs to haff food and vater, but she vill recover.”

“What are we going to do with her once she’s all right again?” Ron said at last, glancing between Harry and Remus.

“Does she have the Dark Mark?” asked Harry, rubbing his face. He really needed to shave.

“No,” replied Viktor.

“Then she stays.”

“Harry!” yelped Ron.

“This is my house!” he shouted, and Ron stepped back. “She is in need of help. We let her stay. Letting her go will result not only in her death but will negatively affect the Order as well. She stays. Is there anything else?”

“You need to eat,” said Viktor sternly. “That is vhy you fall. Then sleep.”

“All right,” Harry mumbled as he attempted to iron off his face with his hands, and then left the room without another word. Ron watched his best friend go with concern written clear across his face.

“He’s going to be all right, Ron,” said Remus.

“He’s not all right!” Ron exclaimed, spinning around and pinning Remus with an incredulous look. “Don’t you see what this is doing to him? He’s going mad! He’s too young to be in charge of so much. People are always looking up to him, asking his opinions, asking what they should do or say or wear or whatever!” Ron gasped for breath and wiped angrily at his wet cheeks. “He can’t keep this up much longer.”

The room’s silence was deafening. Out in the corridor Harry pulled his Extendable Ear from the door and backed away slowly. He then ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

*~*~*~*

Viktor had healed most of her injuries, Harry noted. All that was left were faint scars and slight yellow tinge where the bruises on her arms had once been. She was covered by a sheet, which was rising and falling to the steady rhythm of her breaths, so Harry could not see whether the gashes on her stomach had been healed or not.

It had been a week since the rescue mission. Malfoy was dead and buried in some remote place that only Remus and Viktor knew the location of. And Harry...he had been coming to sit in Pansy’s room every single day. He would only spend about an hour with the young woman, watching her sleep and breathe and not do much of anything else, but Harry found it strangely comforting. Peaceful, almost. And bizarre. Bloody hell, he _was_ going mad. 

Someone had fixed Pansy’s hair, too, during the past week (Harry figured it was either Ginny or Fleur). It was very short now, but at least it wasn’t ragged-looking anymore. In fact, it looked rather nice. It softened her face a little and drew some attention away from her nose.

Harry liked to look at Pansy’s nose. It was small and rather flat, and at the end, it turned up significantly, so when you looked at Pansy from straight on one could see both nostrils, which really wasn’t flattering on anyone. But Harry liked it, because...well, he had no idea why. Probably because he was going mad.

There was a soft knock on the door and Harry looked up to see Viktor poking his head through the door. “Is she still sleeping?” he asked. Harry nodded and Viktor stepped into the room and over to Pansy’s bed. Pulling out his wand, he passed it over Pansy’s body, sometimes making interesting noises when yellow or red sparks sprinkled out the end of his wand. He picked up a clipboard that was lying on the bedside table and began making some notes on it.

“You haff been coming here a lot,” Viktor rumbled into the clipboard. Startled, Harry blinked and looked up at the older man.

“Yeah...” Harry’s eyes returned to the still body on the bed. “It’s quiet in here. I like it. Why isn’t she waking up?”

Viktor made an odd grunting sound. “She is sleeping. Resting. It is healthy. She vill vake up, but I do not know vhen.” He paused. “Herm-own-ninny says she is a friend from Hogvarts.”

Harry snorted. “Hermione used to call her a cow, so I don’t think ‘friend’ is quite the word you’re looking for,” he said dryly. “She was in Slytherin and Malfoy’s girlfriend. We hated her and vice versa.”

“Then vhy do you vish to save her?” Viktor asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Because everyone deserves to be saved, no matter how they treated you in school.” 

Viktor placed the clipboard back on the table and bent over Pansy’s head. Opening an eyelid, he shone light from the end of his wand into both eyes before straightening up and saying, “Perhaps she does not vish to be saved. There is a good chance she does not vant to be here, vith you and Ron and Herm-own-ninny. Even vith no Mark she could still be a Death Eater.”

“Everyone deserves to be saved,” Harry repeated firmly. Viktor watched him in silence for several minutes, then sighed and left the room quietly, leaving Harry and Pansy to their peace.

*~*~*~*

Another week passed before Pansy woke up.

“Where am I?” she croaked, and Harry nearly jumped out of his chair in surprise. He’d been nodding off and wasn’t expecting her to wake up that very second.

“You’re in my home,” Harry said softly, leaning forward. “We found you about two weeks ago locked up in a dungeon cell. You’d been severely beaten. We brought you back here and healed you.”

Pansy stared at him, and Harry noted that she had green eyes just like his. Green eyes and black hair.

“Draco?” she gasped, and Harry realized that her throat must be dry. He scrambled to get some water from the loo across the hall and when he came back he held the cup gently to her lips, allowing her to drink down the cool water. When Pansy had finished, Harry set the cup on the side table and sat back in his own chair. By then he was hoping she had forgotten her earlier question.

“Draco?” she repeated, and Harry inwardly groaned.

“I’m sorry, Pansy,” he replied in a quiet tone. “When we found you, Malfoy...he was hurt very badly...and—and we tried really hard but we couldn’t save him. He’s dead.”

Pansy closed her eyes and turned her head to face the wall. “Go away,” she muttered after several moments, and Harry did.

*~*~*~*

The next day Harry found himself wandering around Grimmauld Place. He felt restless and anxious. He’d passed by the library three times now, and Hermione gave him a questioning look every time. He figured he could actually go in there and help Hermione with her research, but considering how fun _that_ sounded, Harry found that he wasn’t much interested, even if the material had to do with Horcruxes.

Harry stopped suddenly. He was standing outside Pansy’s room. How had that happened? Biting his lip, Harry glanced behind him and to his sides, and upon seeing no one, knocked lightly on the door. No one answered, so Harry quietly turned the doorknob and poked his head into the room. Pansy was asleep, and Harry felt ridiculously thankful for tha—

“Are you just going to stand there ogling me?” came Pansy’s harsh voice from within the sheets. His heart now firmly lodged in his throat, Harry quickly scrambled into the room and closed the door behind him. In that time, Pansy had turned over and was now staring at him reproachfully. Her hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions, and her face was pale and drawn. It looked as if she was having trouble sleeping.

“What do you want, Potter?” she snapped as she struggled to sit up. Harry started forward to help her, but the sneer she threw him stopped him dead in his tracks.

Fumbling a bit, he said, “I just—just wanted to see if you were all right...”

“Oh, please,” Pansy scoffed, “like you or anybody else in this house gives a damn about me.”

“Viktor does—and I do, too,” Harry argued, feeling his face flush when he caught sight of Pansy’s bare shoulder. “You’re safe here—”

“You’re such an idiot, Potter,” Pansy muttered, turning her gaze to a grimy window. “We’re not safe anywhere.” Whipping her head back to his, she pierced Harry with a glare, which caused his insides to squirm. “Will you sit down already?”

Harry felt himself numbly obeying, though a part of him did realize how unusual...yet pleasant it was when someone told him what to do, and not the other way around.

“Why did you save us?” she asked once Harry was situated in a chair by her bed.

“Because no one deserves what happened to you and Malfoy—”

“How do you know that?” she interrupted in a sharp voice. Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again when he couldn’t come up with a response. Pansy sneered at him and said, “See, that’s just it, isn’t it, Potter? How do you know Draco and I weren’t loyal to the Dark Lord? How do you know we didn’t kill and steal and destroy? Why are you so sure that I won’t escape as soon as I can and return to the Death Eaters, telling them all your secrets?” Pansy sat back, looking triumphant.

Harry swallowed hard. “I don’t,” he said at last, “but—”

“There are no buts, Potter,” she hissed. “The world isn’t black and white. I can assure you that I am in no way sympathetic to your cause. I have no interest whatsoever in saving Muggles and Mudbloods and blood traitors, like your precious Weasleys—”

“Two of those _Weasleys_ saved your life!” Harry barked, feeling his anger rise dangerously. Pansy smirked, apparently pleased with herself and Harry looked away, scowling.

“You really don’t get it, do you, Potter?” she said decisively. “Let me ask you something. Do you even remember what the hell you’re fighting for anymore? Or better yet, who you’re even fighting _against_?”

“Who we’re fighting against?” Harry spluttered. “ _Who we’re fighting against?_ We’re fighting against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, against all those who want to destroy the world and kill innocent people! How can you possibly say that’s not a worthy cause?”

“Because I don’t care!” Pansy exploded, and Harry was horrified to see tears in her eyes. “Draco is dead, my _parents_ are dead, and I’ve got nothing at all now except _you_ and your fucking mad house-elves and werewolves and Mudbloods and blood traitors and I don’t want it! I don’t want any of it! I just—” Pansy broke off and began to cough violently. Harry leapt out of his seat, alarmed, and stepped forward.

“Don’t come near me!” she shrieked, holding up her hands as if to protect herself. “Just get out of here, Potter, and don’t come back!”

Tripping over his feet, Harry practically flew out of the room and up the stairs to his own. He wouldn’t emerge for another two hours.

*~*~*~*

Harry didn’t return to Pansy’s room after that; he didn’t think he had the balls to confront her quite yet. So he took to pestering Viktor about her health and what she was doing. Viktor took this all in stride, only raising an eyebrow at Harry when he began to ask personal or strange questions. Another week or so passed before Pansy was allowed to get out of bed and leave the room. However, Harry soon discovered that Pansy didn’t like to wander much and instead remained for the most part locked in her room.

Feeling morose, as Harry was wont to do in those types of situation, he walked aimlessly around Grimmauld Place, feeling a little lost—albeit relieved—since there had been so little Death Eater activity the past month.

As he wandered down the staircase, Ron’s voice rang out from the floor below him. “Hey, mate! Mum says lunch is ready!”

Pleased at the thought of Molly Weasley’s excellent cooking, Harry rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Without paying much attention to his surroundings, he headed straight towards where Mrs. Weasley was hovering over a large canister full of what smelled like beef stew.

“Hello, Harry dear,” said Mrs. Weasley warmly, and Harry grinned at her. “Why don’t you have a seat at the table next to Pansy.”

Harry stilled at that and blurted, “What?” Turning his head slowly, Harry’s eyes came to rest of the small frame of Pansy Parkinson, who looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world than at that table. Next to her was Viktor, engaged in an intense conversation with Hermione and being eyed wearily by Ron.

Feeling as if his legs were made of jelly, Harry made his way over to the empty seat next to Pansy and sat down stiffly, where she proceeded to ignore him completely.

Only a few more Order members came for dinner and after everyone was situated at the table, Molly and Charlie began distributing the stew and bread. Soon, the room was filled with conversations surrounding new loves, work, the Ministry, Muggles, and so forth. Talk of the war had been forbidden a long time ago at any meal time.

It had been Harry’s idea.

Since Ron and Hermione were at one end of the table bickering and Ginny, Neville, and Remus were at the other, Harry found that there was really no one to converse with, unless one counted a passed-out Mundungus Fletcher, which Harry didn’t. So that left only one person.

“So…how are you?” Harry asked Pansy, and then winced. He decided that was possibly one of the stupidest opening lines in the history of mankind.

Pansy raised an eyebrow at him and curled her lip. “Well, Potter, if you must know, I’m a bit crampy. Since I don’t have my wand with me anymore, and your precious underlings won’t allow me a new one, I can’t perform any spells that would do away with the symptoms, I must suffer in silence. Additionally, my period is unusually heavy this month, so I’m finding that I have to change my—”

“All right,” Harry interrupted. “I get it.”

“You asked.”

Sighing, Harry didn’t respond and instead concentrated on his stew. If she insisted on being so unapproachable, then he’d be damned if he was going to get himself hurt or embarrassed for it.

After that night, Pansy’s presence at the dinner table became a regular occurrence. She rarely spoke, however, only answering questions posed to her by Viktor or, oddly enough, Mrs. Weasley. Harry hardly saw her outside her room, though he did catch a glimpse of her now and then in the library. And then there was that one incident in the bathroom, for which Pansy had threatened him with bodily harm should he ever speak of the event.

Harry still wanked to the image of wet, creamy white skin and water pouring over the gentle curves of her hips and buttocks. He hadn’t been even remotely interested in another female in what felt like ages, so this newfound interest in Pansy, whom he believed to be an enemy for so long, shocked Harry. It pleased him as well. At least it meant he wasn’t completely sexually dead, something he’d come to believe over the past year when no woman could arouse any interest from him at all.

With a grunt, Harry shook all mental images of a naked Pansy from his head and quickly pulled his shirt over his head. There was an Order meeting tonight and although he wasn’t officially in charge of the secret organization, Harry still had a fair share of the burden on his shoulders.

As he descended the stairs, he stopped momentarily at the door leading to Pansy’s room. They’d not spoken more than a few words to one another over the course of the past few weeks, but regardless, Harry was drawn to her. She was strong and had an aura of power surrounding her wherever she went. When Pansy entered a room, people took notice, including Harry. She’d been the subject of many a fantasy lately, all of which involved her taking over the situation completely, of him submitting to her will. It was utterly arousing and confusing. He contemplated knocking on the door and asking after her welfare, but quickly dismissed the idea. However much he looked forward to her acidic and sarcastic remarks, he just didn’t have the time; the Order meeting was going to start sooner than he realized. With one last fleeting look at her door, he then headed down towards the kitchen.

*~*~*~*

“Harry! Wake up, mate! Lupin needs to see you now—there’s been an attack.”

Scrambling out of bed, Harry search blindly for his glasses and Ron ran around the room collecting Harry’s clothes and then dumping them on the bed.

“What’s happened?” Harry grunted as he struggled to hop into his trousers.

Ron ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Something about Muggles and giants. I dunno. Everyone was shouting and Lupin was asking for you and I just ran up here to get you. The attacks have only just begun.”

Harry slipped on his last trainer and he sprung up from the bed. “Let’s go,” he said, heading for the door and down the stairs. Upon reaching the parlor doors, he flung them open and a dull roar surrounded him. Nearly the entire Order was there, all apparently shouting at one another in order to be heard over the noise. Over on the far side of the room stood a weary-looking Remus struggling to get the attention of the crowd.

Striding purposefully into the room, Harry went straight towards Remus, and as he did so, the volume began to slowly decrease until there was only a spattering of whispering left.

Once he reached Remus, Harry turned around and said, “Now that we have your attention, would someone please tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Again, everyone spoke at once and Harry winced at the noise. Holding up his hands, the Order quieted down. Pointing to Tonks, he said, “Tell me. Just you.”

As Tonks told him exactly what was occurring across the country, Harry felt all the blood drain from his face.

*~*~*~*

Harry swirled the scotch in his glass before taking a swig of it. It had been a little over six hours since he’d been informed of the deaths of nearly every Muggle-born witch and wizard in England.

Colin, Justin, Dean, all of them. Dead. And so many more. Harry couldn’t even fathom the amount of innocent lives that were lost tonight.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry took another drink and then got up to pour himself some more of the alcohol. He distantly heard the door to the library open and close as he decided to just forgo the damn glass and drink straight from the bottle. It tasted much better that way anyway.

“Hiding, Potter?”

Harry started and spun around; standing behind him was none other than Pansy. Her arms were crossed across her chest and she had a look of pure disdain on her face.

Narrowing unfocused eyes, Harry stepped towards her and said, “I’m not hiding. I do not _hide_.”

“Then what are you doing in here all by your self while the rest of your minions are out there fighting the Death Eaters?” she said haughtily, also stepping forward. “Looks pretty cowardly to me.”

“What the fuck do you know?” Harry snarled. “You don’t know anything that went down tonight—”

“I know that Muggle-borns were targeted and killed,” she interrupted. She was now standing so close that Harry could smell her shampoo. “I know that hundreds of Mudbloods died. I know that it was the Death Eaters who did it. I know that they’d had it planned for the past three months.”

Harry threw his glass to the ground and grabbed Pansy by her wrists. Jerking her forward and sticking his face into hers, he snapped, “Did you know about this attack in advance?”

Pansy remained silent and Harry growled. “Did you know this was going to happen?” he bit out.

Pansy licked her lips and Harry’s gaze snapped to the peek of tongue sticking out.

“Potter,” she whispered, and Harry’s eyes flew back up to meet hers. “Do you know what Death Eaters do to people who betray them?”

Harry stared at her, completely at a loss as to what to say. She continued in the same haunting voice, “They torture them, of course. Hours upon hours of torture, of Cutting Hexes and jinxes that make your tongue disappear; curses ripping open your stomach and then closing it immediately so that it can be done again and again.” Here, Pansy tore her hands away from his and backed away quickly.

“Do you see this?” she hissed, pulling up her baggy shirt and showing him her scarred stomach. “That’s what they do to traitors. And do you know what else they do? They kill them. Does that answer your fucking question, Potter?” Without waiting for an answer, she whirled around and stormed out of the room.

Harry watched her leave silently. He did not go after her; he just didn’t see the point. Rubbing his temples, Harry cleaned up the mess he’d made and then walked slowly to his room. On the way, he ran into Remus, who stopped him briefly to talk.

“You understand why you couldn’t go, right, Harry?” Remus asked softly, putting a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezing lightly.

Looking away, Harry stared into the lifeless portrait of some ancient Black relative and then said, “I’m not ready to face him yet.”

Remus blew out a breath and pulled Harry into a quick hug. “It’ll be over soon,” he murmured into Harry’s ear. “And then we’ll finally be able to get on with our lives.”

Harry continued to stare at the portrait blankly as Remus’s words washed over him soothingly. Sometimes, he just needed this kind of comfort, just needed someone to take the responsibility off of his shoulders and place it on their own. Sometimes, Harry just needed to forget.

“Goodnight, Remus,” he muttered, pulling away and giving the older man a grateful smile.

Remus watched Harry walk away, a saddened look on his face.

*~*~*~*

For what felt like the fiftieth time that night, Harry violently punched at his pillow as he struggled to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Harry was used to insomnia visiting him in the night, but it was nearly three in the morning and he needed to get at least some rest before tomorrow if he ever hoped to be able to function properly. 

Sighing, he sat up and stumbled out of bed. Maybe he’d go down to the kitchen and warm up some milk, perhaps adding some sleeping potion to it as well. Fumbling for his glasses, Harry slipped them on and made his way down the stairs.

Grimmauld Place was eerily quiet and not even the portraits were awake at this hour. _The house is so bloody dark_ , thought Harry, as he slowly descended the stairs, barely able to see a foot in front of his face.

He stopped suddenly when he came upon the door to the Black library. A pale stream of light was filtering from underneath the door and into the night. Harry stepped forward slowly, as if approaching some mysterious foe, and reached out to grasp the doorknob. Turning it soundlessly, he pushed the heavy door open and walked cautiously into the room.

Across from him a dying fire flickered in the fireplace, cackling and popping as the embers faded from existence. Harry watched the flames for several moments before turning his head and locking eyes with Pansy.

She was bathed in shadows and Harry could only just make out her face. She was not sneering at him, or scowling, or frowning. She was simply sitting on the arm of the sofa and watching him.

As light continued to fade from the room and the black of the night slowly crept upon them, Harry moved towards the sofa, keeping his eyes steady with hers.

“Go away, Potter,” she whispered with wide eyes, as he was impossibly close to her now.

“I can’t,” he murmured. He watched as several tears spilled down her cheeks. Harry lifted his hand and cupped her cheek gently, wiping away the wetness with his thumb. Pansy did not sneer, nor gasp, nor react at all other than to lean into the touch.

Licking his lips, Harry leaned down and nuzzled his nose against her own. Pansy pulled back slightly, looking at him with such vulnerability that Harry felt his heart skip a beat. Without thinking, he kissed her tenderly, as if asking for permission to continue, and when Pansy did not protest, he pushed his lips harder against her own, his tongue sliding along the seam of her mouth, then slipping inside and massaging her tongue, her lips, her very being.

The kiss deepened, their tongues entwining as Harry gripped Pansy’s slim hips, pulling her off the sofa and flush against him. She gasped upon feeling Harry’s arousal pressing firmly into her hip, and moaned quietly against his lips when his hands slid around her back and settled on her arse.

The room was completely dark now, and not a word was passed between the two as their kisses grew more frantic and needy. They didn’t need words to express what they needed to say to one another, for in the blackness of night, where shadows could hide a multitude of sins and shield expressions so as not to give anything away, they knew what the other needed. There would be no words when Harry picked her up and settled them on the sofa, no tender declarations of beauty or softness, no murmurs of “so good” and “more”.

There was only intensity and darkness.

Neither could see the other, yet they still knew the other’s body as they knew their own. Harry knew just how sensitive Pansy’s breasts were the moment his teeth grazed her nipples; he knew how she would cry out when he sucked hard on her pulse point. He loved how she whimpered when he slid down the couch and worshiped the apex between her thighs, licking the sweet folds and teasing her clit with his tongue and fingers. And when Pansy came, shuddering and gasping around his fingers, Harry didn’t think he’d ever love anything more than that moment in his life.

Sliding back up her body and settling between her legs, Harry kissed her again, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and letting her taste herself on his lips. She moaned again and thrust up, causing Harry’s eyes to roll back in his head as his cock came in contact with her wet folds.

He knew he didn’t need to confirm with her, didn’t need to ask, “Are you sure?” before gripping the base of his cock into place and sliding into her tight heat. Gasping, Harry squeezed his eyes shut as sheer pleasure rocked his body and he worked to keep from making a fool of himself.

Pansy groaned again and squeezed around him, and Harry gasped, thrusting forward and eliciting more moans from the both of them. Without any further encouragement, Harry began to thrust, relishing in the tight sensation of velvet surrounding and milking his cock. It’d been so fucking long, he thought hazily through a lust-filled mind.

Pansy suddenly wrapped her legs tightly around his hips and began thrusting back, causing Harry to growl and pound into her more forcefully. She gasped and ran her nails down Harry’s back before settling her hands on his arse and squeezing hard.

As the tension built between them and the closer they got to completion, Harry felt Pansy slither a hand down her body and begin fingering her clit as he drove into her. Moaning at the thought, Harry bent and kissed her blindly on the mouth. Cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples, Pansy cried out loudly and Harry felt her clench around him, shuddering and gasping. 

The heat and the sounds and the _feel_ of everything finally became too much for Harry and with a low growl, he came long and hard, spilling into Pansy, shaking with his release, with the release that they had both needed for so fucking long.

Harry’s arms gave out from beneath him and he collapsed onto Pansy’s small form, though she did not protest. Rather, she wrapped her arms around his back and fingered the hair at the nape of his neck. 

They lay there for what felt like hours, still not speaking, just caressing and kissing, a world of understand passing between them. They eventually rearranged themselves on the sofa and fell asleep almost immediately.

When Harry awoke in the morning, he was alone and sporting a major crick in his neck. The morning light was shining through a dusty window while Harry pulled on his trousers and made his way down to the kitchen. There, he found Remus sitting alone at the table drinking a steaming cup of tea.

_The house is too quiet. Something isn’t right_ , he thought, looking around the room as if expecting Pansy to suddenly jump out of the pantry.

“Where’s Pansy?” he asked Remus, leaning on the table with his hands. Sighing, Remus took another sip of his tea before placing it back on the table and raising his sad amber eyes to meet Harry’s.

“She’s not here.”

Harry blinked. “What do you mean she’s not here,” he repeated slowly.

Remus hesitated for several moments, then replied, “Miss Parkinson has left, Harry. She’s not coming back.”

Breathing shakily, Harry stared at Remus in shock. He then ran out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the front corridor of Grimmauld Place. Flinging the front door open, Mrs. Black’s portrait shrieking in the background, Harry ran into the front yard and down to the end of the walkway. He waved his wand wildly, searching for any sign that Pansy had been there within the past few hours, but found nothing. She was gone.

Harry choked back a sob of anguish and felt a howl of agony well up in his chest. He wanted to scream at her, order her to come back to him, to the Order, to where it was safe.

“FUCK!” he screamed, and several birds took flight from their nests.

“She’s safe, Harry,” came Remus’s lilting voice.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. “Why did she leave?” he demanded.

“Do you really think she belonged here?”

Scowling, Harry looked away, struggling to control his breathing.

“She’s free.”

“She’s in danger!” shouted Harry.

“She’s _free_ ,” Remus repeated. “Free from the Death Eaters, from the war and the Order, from everything. This is what she wanted. You know that to be true.”

“I know,” Harry whispered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He closed his eyes when he felt Remus’s arm wrap around his shoulders and leant into the touch. Tomorrow, life would go on. The war would still be raging, and friends and enemies will perish, but Harry could sleep tonight knowing that he at least succeeded in saving Pansy Parkinson. And in the process, he saved a little part of himself.

_Fin_


End file.
